How Sweet It Is
by kr2009
Summary: Just a girl and a boy.  Watermelon and love.  Simple and summer. AH.


**This story is an entry for the Carlisle and Esme Summer Citrus Contest. To see the other entries for this contest, please visit tiickledpink's Community at the following address: ********ht tp: / /www. fanfiction. net /community/Carlisle_and_Esme_Summer_Citrus_Contest/93193/.******

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><p><strong>Title: How Sweet It Is<strong>

**Author: kr2009**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: Just a girl and a boy. Watermelon and love. Simple and summer. AH.**

**Word Count: 3,306**

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respective owners. The author of this story in no way profits from its use or distribution.**

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><p>The 32nd Annual Forks Watermelon Festival.<p>

We're here—at the festival.

It's the middle of July –a Saturday to be exact.

We're walking hand-in-hand, making our way through the crowd, as we head toward our favorite booth.

The sky is blue like my favorite cerulean crayon. There's no rain today, and when I look up as I laugh, the sun warms my face. When my hand is squeezed and a kiss is placed on my cheek, you warm my heart.

Adults and children are wandering around, and visiting the different booths that surround us. There are some selling t-shirts and other merchandise, some with music, and even some with games. We stop to watch the seed spitting contest, and laugh with the crowd as a little girl beats a huge man. There are no hard feelings considering the contestants are related. Your brother, Emmett, taught his daughter well. I wonder if his wife, Rosalie, knows about this.

The next game we see is my favorite. A pool is filled as a man and woman try to move a petroleum jelly covered watermelon through the water. It's very greasy and almost violent, but I miss competing.

"Next year," you promise, whispering into my ear.

I nod because I'm not too disappointed. Next year will be better in so many ways.

We cheer your sister, Alice, onto victory against her boyfriend, Jasper, and offer them both congratulatory high-fives. They leave to dry off, and we leave to continue our journey to our favorite booth.

Sure, we can find any kind of watermelon in any booth along the way. Black diamond, jubilee, Charleston gray. Whole, cubed, balled, and even frozen. But we want the slices of crimson sweet that are hiding in the back. They're the sweetest and possibly the messiest, but we don't care.

"Two, please." You're polite to the lady at the booth and tip her well even though you don't have to. Everyone here knows you. You are rather important.

Your oldest brother and his wife are in charge and have been for the past two years now. Your parents might be getting older, but Edward and Bella are young. They do well and surround themselves with family, keeping the festival as it was intended to be: family friendly and a fun place for everyone. Perfect for a hot summer's day.

But we're not Edward and Bella. _We're_ Carlisle and Esme. Equally known, but not quite as important. Well, at least I'm not important, even though you think I am. You think I'm the sun, the moon, and the stars. I won't argue to your face, but I'm not all of those things. _You're_ all those things and everything else good and wonderful.

The lady – Mrs. Cope – hands you the plate with our slices.

"Thank you," you say, giving her a wink. She rolls her eyes, but her blush betrays her. Even middle-aged women want to fall at your feet, but only I get to do that. Only I'm allowed to be on my knees in front of you, hands on your thighs, and mouth…occupied.

We turn and walk away, and you give me the wink. I punch you and reach for my watermelon, but you hold it up and away from me. It's not my fault you're seven inches taller than me.

"Please?" I pout, sticking my lower lip out. You laugh and lean over to bite it.

"We're not eating these yet," you explain. "I have something fun planned."

On the inside, I'm intrigued and excited. Your fun plans are always the best. But on the outside, my lip hurts, so I pull your mouth to mine.

Our tongues are familiar dance partners and glide and caress with ease. You suck my bottom lip in apology; I nibble on your top in revenge. It's only fair, after all.

We break away, breathing heavier than is appropriate for public. We've drawn a small crowd, some watching with kind eyes and smiles, others with disapproval or shock. These are the visitors. Everyone in this town has seen this before and will definitely see it again.

"Ready to go now?

I nod. "Yes, please." Exhibitionism is great, but this _is_ a family event.

And your front just brushed against mine, so I know what we both want isn't family friendly.

I climb onto your back, and you carry me and the watermelon to your truck. We pass people we know and wave to them. I don't know what they think we're doing, but I know they're not imaging the incredible sex we're about to have. And it will be incredible because it always is.

You drop me into the truck seat, chuckling as I bounce. I get to hold the watermelon now as I snuggle up to you.

Our drive is fun as the wind from the lowered windows whips through my hair and we sing along with the radio. I love your voice mixed with mine. I love your hand on my thigh. I love _you_.

I expected to go to your house, but this drive is shorter. You turn off the road and follow the well worn tracks. I know where we're going before we arrive and I smile in delight.

You park the truck and come over to my side to take the watermelon, and I get another free ride on your back.

You carry me through the tall grass of our field until we reach our wrinkled blanket. It's still here from our last star-lit rendezvous.

"I want you naked," you request, lowing me to the ground.

Your low voice causes a welcome chill to run through my body. I want me naked too.

I stand in front of you and peal my dress off slowly. I want you to see each movement I make, and though your hungry eyes excite me further, my speed remains languid.

My sundress hits the ground with a quiet swish, and I raise my eyebrow at you in question. Sometimes you like to do the next part and sometimes you like to watch. When you shake your head, I know my bra and panties will only be touched by you.

You set the plate on the corner of the blanket and hold my eyes as your t-shirt and shorts join my dress. My eyes are hungry as well, and you swallow forcefully. Good. We're on the same page now.

"Turn around."

"Mmm…I love when you're dominant."

I react to your chuckle, and you notice and chuckle some more. "I know you do, baby. Now, turn around."

You move my thick, loose hair to one side before your lips meet my neck. Your finger tips run over my shoulder and arms, teasing and exciting, loving and giving.

I barely notice when my bra is removed. You're so good with the hooks now, unlike the first time when you managed to twist the fabric into a knot. I'm still not sure how you did that, but I can't figure it out now. My mind is completely occupied.

"Please," I whisper. You shush me because apparently your teasing isn't over.

You hands move lower, edging closer and closer to my breasts. My nipples harden in anticipation, but suddenly, your magical hands are gone.

"Lie down."

I listen right away this time.

The grass pokes my back through the blanket, but the itch does nothing to distract me.

"Carlisle, lie with me. I need you." I rub my thighs together, but I know nothing can soothe this ache except you.

"I need you, too, Esme." You palm yourself through your boxers, and when you remove your hand, I protest your loss with a whimper. "But first, we're having a snack."

I look over at the watermelon waiting on the plate.

You nod. "Close your eyes."

There's a naughty gleam in your eyes, an extra meaning behind your words. But I trust you with my life. I love the control you have over my body. I love your games. I love _you_.

With my eyes closed, I hear everything. The wind blowing through the grass, the birds in the trees, your soft footsteps across the blanket.

I feel the heat of your body as you sit beside me. You belong on me…_in_ me, but you're not. I'm patient, though. Your plan will be worth it.

I gasp as liquid lands on me without warning.

"Carlisle, what—?"

"Shhh…just feel."

More liquid falls to my skin and you begin dragging something over my chest. You circle around each breast, covering every surface until stopping at my nipples.

The scent finally reaches my nose, and I recognize it right away. Watermelon. You're covering me with watermelon.

I smile and try not to squirm as you continue your task. The watermelon chunks are cool on my skin, a welcome relief to the heat, but they tickle. You place a final piece in my belly button, laughing when I jump. This is cruel, cruel torture, but we both love it.

"Hold still," you whisper.

I fist my hands in the blanket and firmly plant my hips to the ground. But even those precautions barely work as you take your first slow lick.

Your tongue is tauntingly slow as you clean your mess. You lap at the juice first, tasting every inch of my breast until finally taking the fruit-covered peak into your mouth.

I cry out. The pleasure is almost too much to bear, but I bear it gladly. You know exactly how to play my body, getting me right to the point of no return. One wrong, or possibly right, move could make me come undone, but you back off just in time.

My other breast is cleaned in the same fashion, and you send me to the edge once more before moving down my torso. Chunk after chunk, you eat until only one remains. Your tongue then dips into my belly button, reminding me of how your tongue feels when it enters other areas – so warm and strong and perfect. I've never realized how much your tongue symbolizes you, but maybe I'm just drunk on sensations.

With the final piece eaten, you kiss your way to my lips. Mine are happy to meet yours again. It's been too long.

You kiss me breathless, and I lick my lips. The sweetness there reminds me that my watermelon is waiting.

"Where's my snack?"

"Keep your eyes closed and open your mouth."

I have no idea what you're about to do. Is this a trick? Will something other than sweet fruit enter my mouth? I won't complain either way.

Something cold touches my bottom lip, and I open wider for you to drop it on my tongue. I capture your fingers when I bring my lips together and suck the juices off with a swirl of my tongue.

You curse under your breath, and it makes me proud that I can affect you this way. I'm the only one who's ever made your curse aloud.

You withdraw your fingers, and I swallow the watermelon before you feed me more. We continue this for a while until I assume I've finished my slice. You were nice enough to remove the seeds for me, something I intend to reward as soon as possible.

I sigh, content for the moment…but only for the moment. I'm still aching for you, practically throbbing, in fact. I hope you'll take care of it soon.

Should I ask you again? You know my need because I know yours. We're connected, you and me. We know each other better than we know ourselves. But would another hint hurt anything?

I start to say something, but then you're on your side against me. Your boxers are gone, and you're flesh is hot against mine. I moan in appreciation.

My panties disappear as well, and you hitch my leg up to rest on your thigh. This position is…different; especially when you sandwich my other leg between yours.

I'm on my back, and you're on your side, but somehow we can still reach each other.

I open my eyes just in time to see yours close as your lips find mine. My hand reaches up and grabs your hair, holding you against me. You aren't leaving this position right now.

One of your hands cradles my neck, massaging it and relieving the tension from this odd angle. It feels so good…but not as good as your hand that's rubbing my thigh. It moves inward slowly, kneading and loving. You love that I'm not skinny as a twig. You love how soft I am. You love _me_.

Your hand finally reaches my center, and it's worth the wait. My hips buck as your fingers provide delicious friction. Delicious, delicious friction. And then I'm _there_ again, but of course you know to slow down.

Your fingers still, but my hips don't. This isn't over, and I will keep going until it is.

We're still kissing… Well, you're kissing my neck as I catch my breath. My neck definitely feels well loved, but what about you? I haven't touched you yet, and that has to be a crime.

My free hand crosses my body and reaches down to wrap around you. You are surprised and suck in a quick breath as your hips thrust toward me.

"Vixen," you mutter but don't stop me yet. I want this as much as you do.

My twisting, tugging, and stroking turns you into a mumbling mess. I hear "faster," "like that," "so good," and "oh, Esme" over and over. I'm about to win the prize, but you stop me now, and I whine.

"Your hand is so talented, baby," you assure me. "But there's another part of you that's even better. I want that now."

I want you to have _that_ now. I've wanted it since we left the festival.

We move fluidly together until I am on top. You're still in my hand, but I only stroke you once more before guiding you inside me.

We're made for each other. You fill me like no one else ever has or ever will because this is it for me. You're it for me.

"No one else," I promise you.

"No one," you agree.

You bring your legs up, and I lean back against them as I situate myself. I need my legs for leverage. You may have been dominant earlier, but now it's my turn to use your body as I want.

I keep my movements slow and deliberate, driving you deeper and deeper. You hit the right spots every time as your hands roam, grabbing and twisting and loving. Always loving.

My body is quivering as I lean forward. You see that I can't hold myself up and pull me down to you. Lying like this is even better, putting pressure and friction on _everything_.

I'm close yet again, but I know it will be different this time. You can hear my fast breathing and see how my body is shaking. I need this, and you'll give it to me.

I push myself against you harder and faster, and if it wasn't for you moaning "yes," I would think I was hurting you.

My body just doesn't want to let go, doesn't want to ride through the pleasure. I'm not sure why, and neither are you. All this buildup can't be for nothing.

Your hands go to my hips, trying to help me along. I want to cry out in frustration, but you have a genius idea.

One of your hands leaves my hip and comes back down against my flesh. I'm not sure if it's the sound of the smack, the heavenly sting of my skin, or the knowledge that you just…_spanked_ me. Whatever it is, it sets me off. Waves and waves, so strong and so incredible. I'm lost to it all, and I don't want to be found.

You find yours as well and pull our hips flush as your body shakes. I manage to open my eyes enough to see your face. You're beautiful like this. So beautiful.

I collapse against you, completely sated and comfortable.

You roll us over, slipping out of me but holding me closer to make up for it. We're tired and sticky with sweat and watermelon juice. It's a disgusting combination, really, but we don't care.

"I love you." You lift my left hand to your lips and kiss my rings as you do every time we make love. They've been there for a year now. The best year of my life.

"I love you, too. Happy Anniversary."

Our real anniversary is tomorrow, but we'll always celebrate on the day of the festival. It means so much to us.

At the 27th Annual Forks Watermelon Festival, I met you for the first time. You were just as beautiful then as you are now.

At the 30th, you asked me to marry you. I said yes after informing you of how stupid your question was. Who else am I going to spend the rest of my life with?

At the 31st, we were married with all of our family and friends present. The ceremony was perfect in all its watermelon glory.

And now at the 32nd, we're celebrating something else.

"So what's the verdict? How does Melon feel about the festival?"

I snort and slap your arm with as much energy as I can muster which lucky for you isn't a lot.

"We're not calling our baby 'Melon.' You know I'm already worried that it will come out with a head like Emmett's."

"Emmett's isn't natural. It only grew to be that size after college. He snagged who he thought was the most beautiful girl in the state, and it inflated his ego."

"Who he _thought_ was the most beautiful? You think he's wrong about Rosalie?" Our blonde-haired sister-in-law looks like a goddess.

"Well, she's beautiful, I guess. But not the _most_ beautiful. That would be you."

I bury my head in your chest to laugh. You're so cheesy sometimes, but there's not an act behind it. You really mean everything you say to me.

We return to silence and listen to the wind. The sun is setting, turning the cerulean sky to some weird combination of blue and orange stripes. I don't think I have a crayon for it, but I wish I did. I'll have to get you to make me one, one day.

You sigh one of those sighs that usually mean you have to do something unpleasant. I understand. I don't want to leave either.

"So did the baby like the festival?" you ask again, kissing my head and rubbing my belly.

"I think so. I certainly did, but I'm sad it's over. We have to wait a whole year now."

"But what a year it will be."

You're right, and I tell you so. Everything is about to change for us, but it will be good because we're good together.

Sex-capades will become diaper-capades. We'll be tired from other reasons besides wearing each other out. But I'm not worried. We can do this.

We have dinner reservation tonight, so we have to leave to head home to clean up.

You carry me to the truck for a variety of reasons this time. I really am too tired, and I can't help it that my body is sticking to yours. I'm not the one who put watermelon all over me. You have to face the consequences for that.

I tell you so, and you laugh and agree to face anything for me. You then amend your offer to include anything but childbirth. Love you, too, husband.

You laugh all the way home. You love my sense of humor. You love our baby. You love _me_.

And it is so very sweet.

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><p><strong>Thanks to Mel for beta-ing this and offering words of encouragement while I tried something new.<strong>

**Also, thanks to tiickledpink for hosting the contest. Be sure to check out the other entries.**

**And just a note: watermelons will NOT grow in Forks, Washington. But we'll just go with it, m'kay? ;)**

**I hope you enjoyed it!**


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